


Midday

by yeaka



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: The Inquisitor catches a nap.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Midday

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Dragon Age or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Being the Herald of Andraste—or at least, being _considered_ so—doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for niceties anymore, and so many good hobbies have gone by the wayside. Reading is chief among them, though the Inquisitor still makes time for chess when he can, and on very rare, special occasions, he might even manage to squeeze in a desperately-needed nap. Amongst all the planning, fighting, questing, mediating, ordering, and everything else Rift-related, there are few good excuses to visit the library. The Inquisitor does so anyway, as often as possible. There’s probably some good advice to be had in Skyhold’s dusty volumes. Better yet, there’s _Dorian_ : the best relief there is to the grueling misery of war. 

A small bit of banter will be enough. The Inquisitor wanders in expecting no more, not daring to hope for even a lengthy conversation. A small wink or nod or even sly flirting will do wonders, and surely Dorian will offer it, because Dorian’s always leaning on the rail or buried amongst the shelves, just waiting to be swept up in the Inquisitor’s hungry orbit. The Inquisitor trails around the opening in the center of the tower, eyeing each passing alcove, steps quick and eager for Dorian’s corner. 

Sure enough, Dorian’s tucked into it, though not on his feet. He’s curled up in the deep burgundy armchair propped up by the window. One long leg is crossed over the other, both arms folded in his lap, a book open but clearly forgotten. His handsome face is cushioned on the plush backrest, his dark lashes down against his cheeks. His soft lips are slightly parted, his breathing quiet and even. Lax with sleep, he’s especially beautiful: so _peaceful_ : a picture of pure art. The Inquisitor’s been asked before if he’d like anything in particular to adorn his quarters. If he could spare the resources, he’d send a messenger to find the greatest painter alive and have them come and draw exactly this: Dorian at rest. The Inquisitor would hang it above his bed and smile on it often. It’s hard to imagine anything more lovely. 

Entranced, the Inquisitor bends forward. He dares to brush his fingertips through Dorian’s black hair, petting the silky strands back down. Dorian immediately stirs, and then his breath catches, posture jerking upwards—there’s a spark of light and the flicker of fire.

It disappears before it can do any damage. He snorts, “Vishante Kaffas, I almost killed you!” 

The Inquisitor straightens. It’s a shame to disturb the gentle scene, but Dorian’s more entertaining in his waking moments anyway. The Inquisitor politely answers, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Dorian shakes his head. He rakes a hand up through his hair, right where the Inquisitor’s was a moment before. He must’ve felt and registered that touch. His eyes flicker to the Inquisitor’s face, and just like that, the surprise melts into the usual slick answer. “I suppose you were enjoying the view.”

“Very much so.” There’s no point in pretending otherwise. Dorian chuckles appreciatively. He knows _exactly_ how perfect he is. Then he pauses to yawn, hiding it behind his hand. 

When he’s done, he mutters, “In that case, you may continue enjoying it in your quarters—I could use a proper bed.” He pushes out of the chair, forcing the Inquisitor to step back, and Dorian meanders around him without a second look. The Inquisitor doesn’t need one. 

He instantly follows, quite pleased with that arrangement.


End file.
